Priming the Pump, and Food Friday

When I have a chunk of work to do that requires a great deal of concentration and focus and has zero room for errors, it makes me a little bit anxious. That anxiety can lead to paralysis and procrastination. I have found a way to work around that paralysis. I call it priming the pump.

I actually have had experience using a water pump (Thank you Curtis Betts). If you come across a water pump that hasn't been used in a while, the way to get it to work is to pour water down into the pump. The new water is somehow drawn into the workings of the pumps and then you are able to pump as much water as you need.

I was about to start doing the lettering for Linda's tallit. It was difficult to source the fabric and it was expensive. The lettering for this piece just needs to look good. In order to get ready to begin the lettering, I tackled a bunch of jobs that on the face of it looked like nothing but busy work.

I had purchased the Ikea fabric for this tablecloth with my sister. It was during a visit when at least one of our parents was alive. I seem to remember that this shopping adventure may have been during the exhausted aftermath of a health crisis. I love this cloth. Laundering often sets a sharp crease just next to the hem. That hard crease will cause the fibers to break. This cloth had a border of small holes going the entire way around the hem. I ripped off the failed fabric and stitched a new hem.

One of my favorite workhorse table cloths is the one you see behind the challot below.

If you are a regular reader of this blog you have seen it in the background of lots of photos. It is in regular rotation as a kitchen tablecloth. The fabric has been progressively wearing away where the table edges touch the cloth. I suppose I could have just tossed the cloth. I am, however, really fond of it. I wasn't ready to just throw it away.

Instead, I cut away the broken parts of the cloth and cut the rest into napkin sized pieces. All of the napkin sized chunks got hemmed and even mitered.

(Yes,
I am aware that these are not the world's most beautiful miters, but I am sure that you have seen uglier miters.)

Our youngest came by yesterday and he is now the owner of these napkins.

These tasks are perfect for priming the pump. Other excellent tasks that fall into that category include making pillowcases or making myself either a half-slip or a nightgown.

Since my work pump was primed I was ready to tackle the task of painting the text on Linda's tallit.

I have now completed one stripe.

I am now really excited to begin the other three. The little side jobbies did the trick.

Some of you come to this blog to read about sewing and fabric related matters and others are here for the food. For those of you who are here for the food, tonight's dinner is...

Spatchcocked idiot chicken cooked on a bed of carrot and potato batons. The chicken is spatchcocked a word my husband and I keep getting wrong, spotched chicken, sploched chicken. The ventral side of a chicken is cut --so more surface area is touching the cooking surface and the chicken cooks more quickly. It was on sale at my butcher so I bought it.

Idiot chicken is what we call chicken coated with Herbes de Provence. We call it idiot chicken because an idiot can spread this herb mix on chicken and make something that tastes amazing. This was probably the first chicken dish that each of my kids made on their own. The flavor is complicated and delicious especially when you add some citrus juice or wine to the pan. I added the juice of two limes.

My husband watched me put the chicken together and said, "Mmmm, idiot chicken. I love idiot chicken."

I will probably also blanch some broccoli in the next few minutes before Shabbat starts. We have two challot ready to warm up in the oven along with the chicken and i call this dinner cooked.

Shabbat Shalom!

מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Adonoy, Resurrector of the dead. That particular line is recited at every single prayer service every day three times a day, unless you use a Reform or Reconstructionist prayer book . In those liturgies instead of praising God for resurrecting the dead God is praised for giving life to all. I am enough of a modern woman, a modern thinker, to not actually believe in the actual resurrection of the dead. I don't actually expect all of the residents of the Workmen's Circle section of Mount Hebron cemetery in Queens to get up and get back to work at their sewing machines. I don't expect the young children buried here or the babies buried here to one day get up and frolic. Yet, every single time I get up to lead services I say those words about the reanimating of the dead with every fiber of my being. Yesterday, I e...

Connecting with the past

A few months ago I had a craving for my father’s chicken fricassee. If my father were still alive I would have called him up and he would have talked me through the process of making it. My father is no longer alive so I turned to my cookbooks and the recipes I found for chicken fricassee were nothing at all like the stew of chicken necks, gizzards and wings in a watery sweet and sour tomato sauce that I enjoyed as a kid. I assumed that the dish was an invention of my father’s. I then attempted to replicate the dish from my memory of it and failed. A couple of weeks ago I saw an article on the internet, and I can’t remember where, that talked about Jewish fricassee and it sounded an awful lot like the dish I was hankering after. This afternoon I went to the butcher and picked up all of the chicken elements of the dish, a couple of packages each of wings, necks and gizzards. My father never cooked directly from a cook book. He used to re...

Food friday - your grandmother's food processor

My grandmother bought my mother this wooden bowl and a chopping knife, known in Yiddish as a hock-messer, soon after my parents got married. Yes, she also got them a dairy set as well. these wooden bowls and chopping knives were a big part of food prep when I was growing up. meatloaf and meat balls were mixed in this bowl. Chopped liver was made in this bowl as well. Sundays we often made chicken salad for lunch made out of chicken left over from Shabbat chopped with vegetables and mayo. That too, was made in this bowl. When I was in college my parents got their first food processor and the chopping bowls were not used as much. Several years ago, my father asked if i would like the bowls and the hock-messers. I was happy to have them. I like the sheer physicality of chopping up a big bowl of stuff into teeny pieces. While the wooden bowls have stood up well to the years of use, the hock-messers had not. The bladed which were bolted into their handles, wobbled. The blades wouldn't ...

sarah in nyc

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